


All it Takes is a Second

by A_Bad_Writer



Category: Frontier (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Elizabeth Carruthers deserved BETTER, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 23:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17334788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Bad_Writer/pseuds/A_Bad_Writer
Summary: Elizabeth Carruthers pays a visit to Samuel Grant and things quickly take a turn for both parties.Alternate Ending to S2 Ep5 "Cannonball"





	All it Takes is a Second

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile since this happened but here's my take

 Elizabeth had been struck by men before. It was not a new pain or foreign action to her, but never had she been struck by a man she had so little respect for. Samuel Grant was a weak man, a spoiled child in an adult’s body who lashed out when someone took his toys away. She realized now how important Cobbs was to Grant’s business, how he had kept him in check, kept him calm. Seeing Grant without his lover revealed to her how truly pathetic he was, but also how dangerous he could be.

 “You’re showing your weakness Mr. Grant” She said, the pain in her jaw showing in her voice slightly.

“You’ll regret having stepped into my _fucking_ house!” Grant shouted.

“I have not gotten to where I am in this world,” Elizabeth removed the candle from the metal stick on the table she was leaning against, setting it down before gripping the metal object tightly. “by wallowing in regret. Nor do I let insignificant men push me around!” with a quick turn she hit Grant on the side of the head with the stand portion of the candle stick causing it to break off and fly into the corner of the room after the strike.

 Grant whirled back from the surprise hit.

 For Elizabeth it was as if time had slowed, she became aware of every subtle movement in the room. She glanced to the door and thought of running, but then looked back to Grant and knew there would be no escape. Fear filled her entire body as she realized that after what she had just done, only one of them would leave this room, only one would walk out of this house alive.

 She swallowed and gripped the candlestick in her hand so tightly that she was sure she would never be able to let go of it again.

 Grant felt blood run down the side of his face, his head felt light, but he turned around quickly and grabbed Elizabeth at the biceps. “You-“

 A new pain interrupted stopped his words this time. Elizabeth, out of fear, instinct, or a combination of both, brought the candlestick up and rammed it with all the force she could muster toward Grants head. The broken, now sharp, end hit him in the forehead and sent him back a step. Once she realized her makeshift weapon would go no further into his head Elizabeth acted on her only thought and dragged the stick downward as far and as fast as she could.

 The end of the stick ripped through the skin on Grant’s forehead, down through his eye, and finally down his cheek before he stumbled back clutching at his face and screaming in pain. He dropped to one knee as the wound burned and blood flowed down his face and neck, pooling in the hand that was held tightly to the wound.

 Elizabeth looked down at the man in front of her, heard his screams and realized that this was her chance, that she could run, and that he was in no condition to follow.

 She looked at him once more and something in her, in her bones, in her soul spurred her to finish it. Grant was a savage, a deranged brat who needed someone around to ensure he kept his wits and he no longer had that. He would come for her, something in Elizabeth told her that he would come for her. She knew this was no longer about business, that if she escaped now, he would go to whatever extent it took to end her life. Perhaps not today, tomorrow, or even they day after but she knew he _would_ come for her.

 _“I will not spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder”_ She thought to herself.

 With no clear target, just pure hatred and fear of what might come, Elizabeth rushed forward with blurry vision, an angry grunt and grabbed Grant at the shoulder and brought the candlestick down until it wound go no further regardless of how hard she pushed. She did it a second time, and again, and again. The weight of Grant falling back pulled her to the floor with him and she landed on his chest.  She may not have been able to see but she could most certainty hear; the room had gone nearly quiet, no longer filled with Grant’s screams. All she could hear was pained gurgling and the sound of blood dripping onto the floor.

 Elizabeth blinked until her vision cleared, she looked down and saw her work. Blood poured and gushed from Grants throat, holes from the candlestick had opened it a great deal. She was she sure that if she hadn’t stopped, she would have taken off his head. His face, however, was the most distinguishing part. The look of terror, pain, and disbelief frozen into his features was truly satisfying and she would happily admit it. She hoped he suffered, hoped every moment was excruciatingly painful, hoped that he died praying or begging for anyone to save him.

 Elizabeth Spat in his face but froze when she brought her forearm to her lips to wipe the excess away. She could taste and knew immediately what was now in her mouth.

 Blood.

 She looked down and sure enough there it was. It was all over her, on her hands, her forearms, her dress, her chest, and she was certain that if she had a mirror, she would see it all over her face. Looking at her hands she noticed that she still held the candlestick and for some reason she could not let go. Her knuckles and fingers where white as snow, the blood even brighter on her skin because of it. With a trembling hand she tried to unwrap her fingers from the object and after some struggle she managed to pry her fingers open and dropped the weapon onto the floor.

 She gathered herself and quickly left the room, darted through the halls and out the door. Her coach was still outside, and the coachman was standing next to the door.

“Where to ma-“ His words died in his throat as she made her way to the coach, clearly shocked at her appearance. “Madam Carruthers are you-“

“Take me home” She said, one foot in the coach and her hand tightly holding the door to keep from trembling. “Now!” her voice was sterner this time as he hadn’t moved at all, just stared at her blood-stained face and clothes. With the last command she pulled herself into the coach and slammed the door behind her.

 The ride to her home was quick and as the coach stopped, she quickly exited and made her way into the house. She heard Douglas call after her but she payed him no mind, just continued her path to the room with her desk, with her papers, numbers, inventory, and everything else that she was comfortable around.

 Everything that she nearly died for.

 Once in the room she went straight for the bottle of scotch on the table near her desk and shakily poured a healthy amount into a rocks glass.

“Elizabeth?” Douglas called.

 She’d have been surprised since she didn’t her him enter the room, but she knew her mind was in other places.

“What happened?”

“Get out, Douglas” was her only response before she downed the entire content of the glass in one go.

“Are you Alright?” He asked.

 Something in her snapped at the question and she turned around to face him. “Get out!” She screamed and threw the glass across the room. The glass hit the door next to where he was standing, making him flinch. When he turned to look at her his eyes widened, and he stepped forward.

“Elizabeth you’re-“

“Get out” This time she threw the whole bottle across the room, narrowly missing him. “Get out. Get out!” Her scream was ferocious and the anger on her face sent him scrambling from the room.

 Elizabeth sat at her desk once he was gone, elbows on the table and her head in her blood-stained hands. She even felt tears run down her face, in fact she knew she had been crying since the whole damn thing happened. Not because she was ashamed or disgusted by what she had done to Samuel Grant. If she were honest, she was glad he was dead, and it gave her some small amount of pleasure being the one that killed the bastard.

 Her tears were from fear. A fear that she promised herself a long time ago that she would not let men like Grant instill in her again. The fear of losing everything, of having all that she had worked for and built taken away from her. This time it went farther then that though. Men had hit her before, men had screamed at her before, but never had a man tried to murder her. Never had she been that vexing to anyone.

 Some small part of her wanted to believe that wouldn’t have happened, that if she hadn’t struck him, he would have done nothing more than stomp and shout. Something else in her told her the opposite. When he turned to her, when grabbed her by the arms she saw it in his eyes. All it took was a glance, a second to know that he was going to kill her.

Elizabeth pushed the thought from her mind. She was alive, he was dead, and that was the end of it. The fucking pathetic excuse for a man bled to death in his own home, killed with a piece of his own décor.

That was the end of it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my canon and you can't change my mind. FUCK Samuel Grant and Frontier. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk


End file.
